Tanathica Poems

Our city's foundation - the bricklayers job
To safeguard the man and the mob from the mob
The violent, the furtive, the wasteful, the crass
Weather the storm, the storm will pass
...

In part we are made from the flesh of our fathers
And part from our mothers, but we are not either
When we live, struggle, sleep and we die - it's a theatre
We are named, and we keep them, despite what we'd rather
...

What disposition will extol a drink more tears then ethanol?
Whimper fingers wet the basal pulpit arcing,
Diffuse the glimmer from the forebrain, barking!
Not the sole transfusion, water falls
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Lines, in colour, plain or thought
Looking twice from eyes and eyes
Look from eyes that glower brightly
The view from the window changing, slightly
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May it be subtle and unsettling first, on principals of culmination escalate your issues initially by small degrees. May your sense first fade, then, before they fail you. May spectres dart from your eyes by night, before the apparitions assail you.
...

It is a time unspecified
Soon though, no less vilified
You rise and bend your creaking arms
Shattered resting's shattered calms
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The first sphere descends into the flat ocean, the first of eight
None could know, as soon as that distant orb shifted, the process had begun
But it strains the sky in decline and puts pressure on the ocean, pressed like a tile
This is the first of the changes, the shift in feeling that bends the flow of air and unsettles the breath
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The night is auspicious.
No trace of the usual spectres,
The shadows dance vicious;
Rising from rich black nectars
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I wish that I could join you all, alas I'm dead
My day is here and a pall of peace weighs upon my head
I know, with steady tread, back on the altar of your bed
I have foreshadowed you, but you yet live, so spare a thought
...

A sickness stirs with a stagnant fair
What with the things that lately take place
With the tap that tingles and the neural flare
And the damage done's deficient trace
...